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i think this dream is showing up about thirteen years late.

hey, so i know how you're probably all, 'i have the weirdest dreams,' and i know how whenever you say that, there's at least two or twenty people that are like, 'no, i have the weirdest dreams. you lose, sucker.' and then you go home and fall asleep with tears on your pillow and then don't dream anything weird. i know how depressing that can be; i feel you.

HOWEVER.

i really did have a weird dream the other night, so i'm going to brag on it. stop reading now if it's too difficult for you to bear.

i was newly married to mike seaver. (WHAT?! you better know what i'm talking about, Child of the Eighties. and you better know every single word to the theme song. or we can't be friends.) no, not kirk cameron. mike seaver. and me and mike went to visit his sister, tracey gold, and his mom, joanna something. i know this is getting confusing since mike seaver is a character and tracey gold is the actress who played his sister, but let's keep up and move on, shall we?

anyway. tracey gold was pregnant but you couldn't tell. and joanna something was mean and frigid and very upset that i kept breaking the crystal chandelier bobbies that she had hidden all over the house. then i clumsily broke these ones that she had hidden in a drawer under the coffee table, and can i just say that was the straw that broke the mother-in-law's back? she went APE CRAP and she and tracey gold told me i was not welcome in tracey gold's beach house anymore and that i had to go outside and wait on the dock. then i told tracey gold that she's bulemic. then tracey gold told me that she was naming her unborn daughter penelope just to spite me. and i was all, TRACEY GOLD, NO YOU DIDN'T.

so i went out to the dock to brood and admire the many tricycles left laying around, and because it was tracey gold's neighborhood it was clearly very fancy (although also on what appeared to be the mississippi river and set back in a forest simultaneously, so it was very 'hill people chic'). all the beach houses were painted in coordinating shades, and the neighborhood headmistress handed out fan decks of the paint colors used to all visitors to the 'village.'

i spent the rest of the dream hating tracey gold, looking through paint swatches, and admiring a particular foresty green used in the outdoor nursery of her next door neighbor. also, i had to paint my nails red because otherwise no one would believe that i was mike seaver's wife. the end.

anyone out there adept at dream analysis? if you tell me that i have a deeply buried longing for my husband to grow a curly mullet, i'll probably be all, 'tell me something i don't know.'

Hi! I'm Paige Van Voorst, homeschooling mom of six kiddos under the age of nine. We're quickly outgrowing our minivan - it's basically a clown car at this point!
Hang around as I navigate my way through the joys, frustrations, belly laughs, and ridiculous moments with all of these clowns.